


Viral Wisdom

by whumphoarder



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anesthesia, Crying, Dentists, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Sick Peter Parker, Social Media, Surgery, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Vomiting, Wisdom Teeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 12:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19109758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whumphoarder/pseuds/whumphoarder
Summary: When Peter’s dentist decides the kid’s impacted wisdom teeth need to go, Tony offers to have the surgery done at the compound. Honestly, Peter is looking forward to it. After all, he’s seen the viral videos—he’s pretty sure he knows what to expect.What could possibly go wrong?





	Viral Wisdom

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [sallyidss](https://sallyidss.tumblr.com/) and [xxx-cat-xxx](https://xxx-cat-xxx.tumblr.com/) for beta reading and to [awesomesockes](http://awesomesockes.tumblr.com/) for title help <3

“You’ve gotta video it, Mr. Stark,” Peter says between bites of the pizza he’s currently wolfing down as part of what he and Tony have jokingly dubbed ‘The Last Supper’. The kid will be getting all four of his wisdom teeth removed at eight o’clock sharp the next morning, and being a teenage boy with an absurdly fast enhanced metabolism means Peter has decided the twelve-hour mandatory fasting period before surgery will be the worst part of the whole procedure.

Tony raises his eyebrows in mock offense. “Oh I’ve _gotta_ , do I?”

Peter grins. “Yup,” he says, popping the ‘p’. “It’s gonna be awesome. Ned’s cousin got hers out last December, and when she woke up she was so high from the anesthesia that she started accusing the dentist of stealing her teeth and selling them to the tooth fairy on the black market.” He sticks the last bite of his pizza slice in his mouth. “Her mom filmed it and the video went like, viral.”

“You know,” Tony remarks. “Hate to burst your bubble, kid, but I got my wisdom teeth out during my senior year at MIT and I don’t remember anything like this happening. Just a lot of eating applesauce and mashed potatoes while resembling Alvin the Chipmunk.”

“No, no it’s a thing,” Peter insists. “These videos are like, everywhere. I saw this one where this lady woke up and forgot she was married but suddenly noticed her wedding ring and started freaking out, thinking her husband had just proposed. But they had been married already for like, three years.”

Shaking his head, Tony huffs. “You are literally a superhero with a secret identity and you think it’s a good idea to get wildly high on medication and then have me film whatever crap comes out of your mouth so you can post it on, what, Facebook?”

“Ha, _Facebook_ ,” Peter snorts as he reaches for another slice. “Good one, Mr. Stark. No one uses Facebook anymore.”

**X**

The next morning, Peter’s not looking quite as excited as he was the previous night. He sits beside Tony in a plastic chair just inside the compound’s Medbay, anxiously texting back and forth with Ned as they wait for the SHIELD appointed oral surgeon and his assistant to finish prepping the procedure room.

When Peter’s dentist decided several weeks back that the impacted teeth had to go, Tony and May agreed it would have to be done at the compound. Peter’s enhanced physiology means that the dosage of anesthesia required to put him out could also take down a moderately-sized elephant. HIPAA protection or not, Tony would rather not have any raised eyebrows from standard medical professionals.

“You hanging in there?” Tony asks casually. The kid’s foot hasn’t stopped tapping once since they sat down and he’s wondering if Peter’s beginning to regret telling May he’d be fine doing this solo while she’s at work. “Ready to make, what is it then, Vine history?”

That remark elicits a short laugh from Peter. “Vine’s dead, Mr. Stark,” he informs. “It was the true tragedy of this generation.”

Tony sighs, exasperated. “Is it YouTube then? Reddit?”

Peter just shrugs. “Something like that.” His gaze lowers back to his lap and he fires off another text to Ned.

FRIDAY’s voice comes over the speakers, so sudden that it startles the kid and nearly causes him to drop the phone: “Dr. Jacobson is ready for you now, Peter.”

“Oh. Already? Wow, okay,” Peter babbles. “Not even 8:00 yet, no need to rush...” he complains as he pockets the phone.

Tony checks his watch. “It’s 7:58, kid,” he scoffs, getting to his feet. “Perks of being the only patient in the building.”

After a second’s hesitation, Peter stands as well and Tony frowns at the shakiness he observes. “You good?” he checks, lightly gripping the kid’s elbow just in case he decides to channel his inner Victorian lady. “I know your blood sugar’s gotta be low, but I promise, as soon as this is over, it’s all the ice cream and pudding you want.”

“Oh, yeah, that’ll be good,” Peter says half-heartedly.

Tony gives his back a little prod to encourage him toward the door. “C’mon kid. Let’s get a move on. Upward and onward and all that jazz...”

Swallowing hard, Peter begins shuffling forward with Tony guiding him along. “So, I’ve never, um, actually had anesthesia before,” he admits. “And, like, what if something… goes wrong?"

Tony softens, for the first time seeing the actual fear lurking beneath Peter’s façade. “Don’t worry—these guys know what they’re doing,” he assures, giving the kid’s shoulder a squeeze. “You’re gonna be fine.”

Lips pursed, Peter nods a few times. “Yeah. Yeah of course. Okay. I guess I’ll just, go on back there and, uh...“

“Do you want me to stay until they put you under?” Tony offers.

A look of relief instantly washes over Peter and he nods vigorously before stopping to quickly add in a tone of forced nonchalance, “But like, only if you don’t mind.”

Tony chuckles. “I think I can swing it.”

**X**

The IV placement is a little rough. Peter’s never been a fan of needles, but Tony distracts him by telling him to close his eyes and recite the second row of the periodic table. Once the saline is flowing, the assistant places an oxygen cannula under his nose.

Peter glances up at the dentist. “So, have you ever had someone say something, like, really inappropriate when they wake up?” he asks.

Jacobson chuckles drily. “Oh yes. I actually have a very amusing anecdote about that.”

Both Tony and Peter look at him expectantly, but the doctor just continues preparing his instruments.

“So, uh, what happened?” Peter asks finally.

Jacobson’s eyes narrow. “That is confidential information.”

Peter blinks at him. “Oh. Uh, of course.”

While the surgeon moves over to grab something from the counter, the assistant—a woman probably in her early thirties whose name badge reads ‘Megan’—gives a small laugh. “Don’t worry,” she says. “It can’t make you say anything you weren’t already thinking on some level.”

Peter gulps. “Great.” Turning to Tony, he says, “Uh, you know, on second thought, maybe we don’t need this on video…”

Tony huffs out a laugh. “Oh no, no take backs. In about an hour, you’ll be trending on Twitter. Or wherever the hell this is going.”

Before Peter can say anything, Megan gives a warning of, “Alright, here we go.” Then she injects the anesthesia into the IV port.

The effect is nearly instantaneous. “Whoa…” Peter mutters, shooting his mentor a nervous look. “Feels… weird.”

“You’re fine, Pete,” Tony promises. “I’ll be waiting right outside until you wake up.”

“Yeah…” he breathes out, eyelids drooping. “And ’s’goin’ on Instagram, Mr. Stark…”

A few moments later, the kid is out.

**X**

“Boss, the surgery is complete,” FRIDAY’s voice comes over the speakers in the waiting area. “The extractions went well. Peter has just regained consciousness and has been transferred to the recovery area.”

“Thanks, FRI.” Getting to his feet from the plastic chair, Tony closes out of the Minesweeper app on his phone and opens the camera one instead. “Guess it’s showtime…”

Already filming, Tony pushes open the door and makes his way back to the small room off to the side of the procedure area. Peter is sitting propped up on a cot as Megan drapes a blanket over him. Tightly rolled wads of cotton are sticking out of his mouth and his eyes are droopy and unfocused.

The assistant gives Tony a small smile. “He did great,” she assures in a quiet voice. “We’ll be right in the other room cleaning up if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Tony tells her before turning his attention back to Peter and pulling up one of the stools to sit on. “Hey kid,” he greets. “How’s life with four gaping holes in your face?”

“Uhhh… M’s’r St’rk?” Peter manages to mumble, blinking a few times.

“The one and only,” Tony replies, his camera still trained on the kid. “Any dental conspiracy theories you wanna share with the audience? Declarations of affection you care to make?”

Peter’s face screws up into a weak sort of frown. “Wha…?”

Tony shakes his head slowly, chuckling to himself. “See, what’d I tell you, kid? Anesthesia just isn’t that exciting.”

“Uhhgg…” Peter groans, blinking again. The kid’s expression of utter confusion coupled with his already swelling cheeks is honestly adorable. “I-I don’t… I feel weird, I…”

Smirking, Tony focuses the camera a little closer on Peter’s face, ready to film whatever drug-induced ramblings pour forth from the kid’s lips.

But then all of a sudden, he’s watching tears well up in Peter’s eyes.

Tony’s grin falters. “Pete?”

“Oh god…” Peter draws in a shuddering breath, which comes back out in a choked sob. “I-I didn’... I can’t… I don’ like this...”

All traces of humor immediately dissolve from Tony. “Whoa, hey, you’re alright,” he says. As Peter continues to cry, Tony turns off the camera and shoves the phone back into his jacket pocket. Scooting closer to the bed, he takes the kid’s hand. “You’re fine, you’re okay.”

“I-I don’ feel... I, uh...” Peter chokes out between sobs. A bloody wad of cotton falls out of his mouth, which only causes him to cry harder. “Wh-Why ’m I bleedin’?” he cries.

“You just had a few teeth out, no biggie,” Tony assures. He grabs a fresh cotton roll from the table and sticks it in the kid’s mouth. “You’re fine, bud, I promise.”

Still crying, Peter manages to spit out, “Am I... is this… real?”

Tony’s heart clenches, going back to Titan, back to Peter being trapped for five years in some kind of altered state of consciousness. He’s kicking himself for not having realized sooner that something like this might freak him out.

“Ah, kid…” Tony sighs. “Yes, this is real. You’re real. You’re right here with me,” he promises, rubbing his hand up and down over the kid’s arm.

Suddenly Peter’s breath hitches in his throat. “‘m gonna throw up,” he chokes out.

The warning is immediately followed by an unproductive gag. Tony mutters a curse, jumping up and grabbing a plastic emesis basin from the counter. He barely manages to get it under Peter’s chin before the kid makes good on his threat.

“Hey, hey, easy, easy...” Tony says, switching to hold the bin with one hand and place the other on Peter’s back. He winces in sympathy at the bloody cotton and red-tinged strings of bile Peter is spitting out between sobs; he can only imagine how much that has to hurt. “FRIDAY, can you get the doc back in here?” he asks in a low voice.

Pulling in a shuddering breath, Peter glances up from the basin, eyes wide and fearful. “I th-threw up b-blood,” he whimpers, horrified. “...’m I dyin’?”

 _Aw fuck._ “No, no of course not. It’s just from your mouth,” Tony explains, much more calmly than he feels.

The door reopens and Megan is the first to enter. She gives Peter a sympathetic smile as she steps into the room. The surgeon appears a few steps behind, looking totally unfazed by the teary, vomiting teen in the chair before him.

“Ah,” he says with a nod. His tone is factual, though not unkind. “We have a crier.”

“This just happens sometimes, nothing to worry about,” Megan quickly assures. She takes the bin from Tony and hands him an empty one before carefully wiping the tears and vomit off Peter’s face with a paper towel. “Anesthesia can have all kinds of different effects on people.”

Jacobson hums in agreement as he checks Peter’s mouth to ensure his stitches are still holding before giving him fresh gauze to stem the bleeding. The tears have stopped now and embarrassment seems to be rapidly replacing fear as the kid’s primary emotion. Unsure of what else to do, Tony just continues rubbing Peter’s back.

“Everything looks fine,” Jacobson concludes after a moment of looking him over. “You can take him back upstairs now. He’ll probably feel calmer once he’s in a familiar setting.”

Tony doesn’t need to be told twice. “Sounds good,” he says, grabbing the paper Megan hands him with the discharge instructions as he helps Peter to his feet. “Alright bud,” he says quietly. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

**X**

After getting Peter situated on the couch in the common area, Tony heads to the kitchen and returns with a tray of soft food selections to offer the kid.

“What are you feeling?” he asks, pointing to each food in turn. “Yogurt? Ice cream? Applesauce? Pudding?”

Peter blinks twice at him. “...Butterscotch puddin’?” he asks hopefully.

Tony scoffs. “No, because I’m not _eighty_. I’ve got chocolate or vanilla.”

“Oh.” Peter’s face falls. “Don’ want anythin’ then…”

“Nope, not an option,” Tony declares. “You have to take your super spidey-kid painkillers soon and I don’t want them to make you sick.”

“But I ‘ready got sick…” Peter moans.

“And it wasn’t fun, was it?” Tony reasons. “Which is why we’re trying to avoid that.”

“But ‘m not hungry…” Peter whines, turning his head away from his mentor to face the cushion, causing the ice pack to side down from his cheek. “Jus’ wanna sleep…”

Tony peels the lid off one of the vanilla pudding cups and scoops up a spoonful. “C’mon, Pete.” He says, holding it in front of the kid’s closed mouth. “You’re not gonna make me do the airplane thing, are you? Because I will _definitely_ be filming that.”

“Uhhh… no...” Peter groans, finally taking the spoon from him. “No more internet…”

**X**

It’s been several hours now since Tony managed to bully the kid into choking down enough pudding to take his meds before letting him fall asleep. Aside from the obvious swelling, Peter’s looking far better for having had the nap.

“How are you feeling now?” Tony asks, handing Peter a fresh ice pack.

Peter accepts it from him and presses it to his comically large cheek. “Mortified,” he mumbles. “This is so not going on Instagram…”

Tony huffs out a laugh. “I don’t know, maybe it should. Like a PSA of sorts for all the kids out there looking to be the next viral sensation.”

“Wonderful,” Peter mutters, rolling his eyes.

Tony pats him on the shoulder. “You know, while you were out, I was looking up some of those videos you mentioned. I see the attraction. Did you watch the one where the black girl called pickled eggs a ‘hood snack’?”

Peter nods.

“Or the red-haired kid who woke up thinking he was a gangster in Dubai?” Tony goes on.

“Classic,” Peter mutters.

“Or the girl who wanted to go swimming in the painting on the office wall so she could see the fishes?”

Peter waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah…”

“I’m telling you kid, I think there’s a market here…”

**X**

It’s two days later that Tony finally breaks down and shows the kid the video Rhodey took of him back in ‘87, burned directly off the VHS into FRIDAY’s archives:

_A teenage Tony Stark sits on the floor of his dorm room, slumped against a twin-sized mattress. His cheeks are swollen to twice their usual size and drool is running down his chin onto the graph paper notebook he’s scribbling feverishly into._

_“Tony, you gotta eat something so you can take your meds, dude,” Rhodey’s voice comes over the recording from off-screen._

_“Go ‘way…” Tony groans, waving him off irritably. “‘m busy solvin’ th’… prob’em…”_

_Rhodey breathes out a heavy sigh. “Okay, for the last time, you can’t ‘solve’ the second law of thermodynamics.” He pauses for a beat. “Especially with a purple crayon.”_

_Tony looks up at him, eyes unfocused, and gives an almost evil grin. “Maybe you can’t but… I’m… ‘m’ really smart…” He blinks twice, then giggles. “m’ Tony Fuckin’ Stark…”_

_“Yeah, yeah, and Tony Fucking Stark needs to take his meds...” Rhodey mutters. “So what’s it gonna be, dude? Yogurt or applesauce?”_

_Tony’s face screws up in apparent thought before he mumbles, “A cheese’urger,” he decides. “Then I solve… gravity.”_

**Author's Note:**

> So basically, this was my older brother's reaction to getting his wisdom teeth out. My younger sibling was the only one out of the three of us who had your classic loopy drugged reaction. Personally, I just woke up feeling weirdly pissed off and irritated by everything and then my stitches fell out early and I bled into my ice cream while watching A Very Potter Musical. Fun times all around.
> 
> (For the pickled eggs video, [click here](https://youtu.be/h_4GOEqTyLQ?t=652). Honestly this girl could be a comedian omg)
> 
> Comments are always appreciated <3  
> Come and hang out on tumblr if you'd like! My url is [whumphoarder](https://whumphoarder.tumblr.com/)


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